Of Letters and Phantoms
by Whovian of a Thousand Words
Summary: It's April 1st, 1999. Almost a whole year later. And George Weasley can't stand living without the other half of his soul and existence. So how does he cope? He writes a letter. A letter that Fred not only reads, but answers in his own way. *ON HIATUS*


**Of Letters and Phantoms  
-1-**

_Dear Fred,_

_Mum said I should try writing a letter to you. I dunno what that's gonna do, you can't read it anyway. Mind you, I suppose she'd prefer it to what I was doing. Cutting yourself isn't a good way out, Freddie. But you already got out, didn't you? You're somewhere out there now. I'm not sure if you can even see me or not, but I like to hope that you can._

_It's been a little less than a year since you died. And I'm not gonna lie, Fred. It hurts. It really does. Every day you aren't here, my heart just shrivels up and dies. I'm stuck. I'm stuck as twin 2 stuck without twin 1. Yeah, that's right. You get to be twin 1. After years of annoying each other about it and despite me being the older one by a few seconds, you can be twin 1. I don't mind. Shame you're not here to gloat about it. I know you and I know you'd do it. You'd be so proud of being number one. _

_I've been really on edge in the past year, too. Just yesterday I shouted at Mum, saying that she doesn't know how I feel and that she doesn't miss you the most, miss you like I do. She ran out of our room, sobbing. I told her later that I was really sorry and she said she doesn't blame me. But it's true, ya know. Nobody misses you more than me. Sounds pretty selfish, eh, Freddie? Ah well. I really don't care anymore. I stopped caring about the world when I saw your body in that casket two days after the battle._

_It's a funny thing, Freddie. That whole funeral put me in a right state. Truth is, I don't think it was because it was your funeral. It was pretty much __our__ funeral. You took me with you when you died, Fred. A part of me left with you. It was unnerving. Seeing you laying there. I kept imagining that you were gonna jump up and yell "Surprise!" and we'd go back to causing a ruckus, driving Mum and Dad up the wall day and night, running the joke shop and being... well, us. But when I saw you lying there, it was like I was looking at myself in that casket. I mean, you're my twin, Fred. Identical to the last freckle (save my missing ear). _

_Oh yeah, on the topic of my ear, do you have it up there with you, Fred, wherever you are? 'Cause sometimes I'll think I'll hear you whispering to me. It's always at that one time. You know that time? That time between asleep and awake, where you still remember your dreams? Makes me wonder if you're actually saying stuff to me or if I've finally gone mental. Probably have, but it doesn't hurt to check, I suppose. _

_Do you think about me, Fred? Where you are, can you see me? I wish I could see you. I know you're probably partying up there with Tonks and Sirius and Dumbledore. 'Cause you know the party doesn't start until Dumbledore walks in. You should say hi to Harry's parents for him. And tell Mrs. Potter to watch over you, from me. Mum did the same for Harry and I think Mum would feel a bit better if she knew you had a sort-of-mother up there keeping watch. _

_You know... I hate this. I hate feeling so sad and hurt all the time and I hate being lonely and I hate being frustrated. I __hate__ it! Percy says I shouldn't be as angry about it as I am. He's such a prat! How am I supposed to __not__ be angry? This isn't fair! This just is not fair, Fred! We were supposed to always be together! We're the bloody Weasley __Twins!__ It's in the name! You weren't supposed to die! It's not fair! Because... Because now I'm just... George. Just George. And I don't like being 'just George.' _

_I wish you were here. I want my twin back._

_Always Your Partner In Crime,_

_George_

_P.S. – Happy 21__th__ Birthday_

* * *

He put his quill down and looked at the parchment. As he read over the letter again, tears welled up in his brown eyes. He put the letter down and pointed his wand at the door. _"Muffliato!"_ He muttered before he buried his face in his hands. And then he sobbed. He didn't want his cries of anguish to carry up or down the stairs for his family to come running and see what was wrong.

He didn't want them around him right now. He only wanted one thing. One person. But you can't always get what you want.

George vaulted to his feet and paced in his small room, feeling trapped and alone. Rage was boiling in his chest and making his vision cloud over with red. Finally, losing all control, he slammed his fists against the door and screamed his twin's name. Hot, sticky tears cut rivers down his cheeks as George continued to batter the door with his fists. Finally, all anger vented, he sunk to his knees, crying as he pressed his forehead to the door. He had done quite a number to it. There were several vaguely fist-shaped dents in the wood and little splinters were stuck in his bleeding knuckles. The joints had swollen and bruises the size of Sickles were blossoming along the ridges of them.

But George didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore. Nothing mattered. Everything was just... meaningless. He turned and put his back against the door. Drawing up his knees and holding himself, George rocked back and forth, moaning and sobbing the same word over and over.

"Fred... Fred... Fred..."

* * *

Far away, in The Place that only existed between worlds, Fred Weasley watched his brother. He saw him write the letter, reread it, jump to his feet, assault the door, then fall into a crumbled, sobbing heap to the floor. Fred's non-beating heart sunk. Poor George. His poor brother, his twin, his other half. He was so broken.

A crazy idea worked its way into Fred's head.

Looking around the expanse of The Place, Fred nervously stood. He could get in trouble for doing this. He had said that he didn't want to be a ghost and was therefore forbidden from ever going back to the living world. But rules were made to be broken. He and George had held that philosophy from the moment they were born.

He took a deep breath and jumped into the vortex that showed his twin crying on the floor. Fred lay on his back, spinning through that vortex. It was a tube of storm clouds with lightning snaking in and out of various other vortexes he could jump through. But his body seemed to know where he wanted to go. Scratch that, where he _needed _to go. There was a blinding flash of white light and Fred's feet hit the ground.

Well technically, they hit the floor of his and George's bedroom. Fred froze for a moment, looking at the crying George on the floor. But his twin didn't even look up or notice his appearance. Fred came to the conclusion that this was like going into a Pensieve. The people here couldn't see or hear him.

Nevertheless, Fred crept quietly to George's desk; they were both masters of stealth after years of prank pulling. He couldn't help but notice, as he reached the desk and looked around the room, that everything was still in its place. George (nor any other member of the family) hadn't touched any of Fred's things. The bed was still unmade from the morning that he and his twin got up to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts. Order forms, experiment calculations, spell formulas, and old school assignments lay on Fred's desk in the exact spot he left them. A fine layer of dust had built up in the past year. It was undisturbed.

If he could've, Fred would've cried right there. But tear-ducts don't work when you're dead. Tearing his gaze away from the room he had grown up in, Fred turned and bent over George's desk, reading the letter. As he took in each word, his heart seemed to get heavier and heavier. George was really suffering. When he finished, Fred looked over at him. George had calmed down and had fallen into a light sleep. He twitched occasionally and Fred chuckled. When he got a closer look at his brother though, the smile left him.

George's face was gaunter, he was paler, and his robes seemed to hang on his frame as if they were a few sizes to large. The spot where he had lost his ear was healed over, but had left a hole for his ear canal so he could still hear. Even that looked sunken. He had lost a lot of weight. He probably wasn't eating very much or sleeping very well. The dark circles under his eyes looked permanent. Old white, faded pink, and fresh red lines crisscrossed on both his wrists. Fred's heart sank—if possible—lower. There was one line he took notice of in particular. It was the longest, starting at the base of George's wrist and extending all the way up under the sleeve of his robe to (most likely) reach his elbow. Fred knew then. At some point in the past year, George had tried to kill himself. Fred fixed his sleeping brother with a stare of the greatest sympathy.

There were times when he didn't watch his twin, when instead he watched Bill or Charlie or Percy. Other times, he would watch Ron and Ginny. They both were still beat up over his death. But the two other people he watched almost as much as George were Mum and Dad. Mum was still a wreck. She couldn't even look at pictures of the twins without breaking into a fit of sobs. Dad didn't seem to be faring any better. Fred watched every Tuesday night when Dad walked outside in the dead of night and looked up at the stars. He would then spend the next hour or so talking to Fred, telling him how much everyone missed him and what was going on with everyone. Now that he thought about it, he did remember Dad mentioning something about George having a problem with the kitchen knives. But Fred didn't think he had meant anything like suicide... Dad just hadn't been able to say the word.

Fred felt a chill of sadness run through him as he thought of the life he had left behind. He crossed the room and bent down over George. He considered his twin for a few minutes before he spoke.

"Hey George," he whispered. "I just read your letter. I miss you too, mate. You wouldn't believe how lonely it is in The Place. There's not much to do, honestly. Sometimes other dead people will visit me and that's okay, I guess." Fred sat down next to his sleeping brother. "But they're not you and our pranks. I find ways to pass the time, though. I'll watch you guys every day. I watch you mostly, but I also watch Mum and Dad and Ron and Ginny and Percy and Bill and Charlie. Percy's still a boring little git. He really hasn't changed much. And you haven't seen or heard from him lately, but Charlie's not in Romania anymore. He's going to come home for our..." Fred bit his lip. "...your birthday party tonight and stay for a while, I think. But he lost his job, George. He's been drinking a lot and wandering around Europe, looking for work. Tell him that it's all okay tonight, will ya? Tell him from me. And Bill and Fleur are doing good. They're seriously considering having kids, but don't tell anyone I told you that. Bill would find some way to flog me beyond the grave for ruining a future surprise!" He laughed slightly. "And Ron and Hermione are really happy and Ginny and Harry are too. We predicted both of those didn't we? Saw it coming in both cases."

Fred stopped talking and took a deep breath. "I don't even have to do that, you know. Take a breath," he mused. "It's odd though, not doing anything I was used to doing when I was here. I don't even sleep. It's really odd, being dead." Fred looked down at his brother's face. George was twisted up on himself, twitching and moaning. Fred knew what was happening. He was having a nightmare. And if Fred's instincts were correct, then he knew exactly what the nightmare was about.

He reached over and put a slightly translucent hand on his twin's shoulder and rubbed it in a comforting way. "Hey now, calm down. It's okay, Georgie. I'm here. Well, sort of. But it really is okay." Tears leaked from George's eyes even as he slept. "You can hear me a bit, can't you? In your dream? Focus on my voice, George. It's alright."

Slowly, George opened his eyes. He moved his hand up towards his shoulder and it passed right through Fred's. Fred smiled sadly. "It's okay, George. I'm always here for you." George froze and looked up, directly into his twin's eyes. His mouth floundered open and closed in shock. Then Fred realized what just happened. He hissed a swear and disappeared as quickly as he could.

Back in The Place, Fred took several deep breaths, even if he didn't need them. Had George really seen him? Fred walked over the vortex where he watched his twin.

* * *

"_...It's okay, George. I'm always here for you..."_

George's body went completely rigid. Did he just hear that? It was then he felt that presence next to him. He forced himself to look up and into the eyes of his dead twin brother. George felt his insides melt. He tried to say something, but realization flickered in the semi-translucent Fred's eyes and with a hissing swear, Fred disappeared in the blink of an eye.

A full minute passed and George still wasn't sure if what he had seen had actually ever been there at all. He got to his feet and leaned back on the door to steady himself. Fred had been next to him! Hadn't he..? He had seemed real, but there was a ghostly look about him. George's mind was reeling. He was crazy. That was it. He had finally lost it. Then his eyes found the letter. It was laying a good two feet from where it had been minutes before.

Anything that he had hoped to say—a word, a sound, or even a whisper—was lost as George grappled for the door handle to his room and ran down the stairs to the kitchen.

* * *

Fred swore again. He had been seen. He knew that was bad. Some woman who died twenty years ago went back to see her two cats and her next door neighbor had seen her. The Creator sent her to another dimension. A feeling of being watched made Fred's neck prickle.

"Yeah, yeah, I know you're watching," he muttered to The Creator. It wasn't that The Creator was a physical being, It was just an entity that was everywhere and yet nowhere. It was a very confusing being.

He listened as The Creator spoke into his mind.

"Yeah, I know you saw that. I broke the _one rule_ we have here. But he's my twin! And he's really suffering... **[...]** If I could—? Yeah! Of course! **[...] **What?! Well... Well, I mean yeah, but why would you do that for me? **[...]** But I mean... If you could do that, why not do it for more important people like Albus Dumbledore or, I dunno, _Harry Potter's parents?!_ **[...]** That's a bit morbid, mate. But yeah, I guess if it was their time... **[...]** So... What you're getting at is that I can leave? Just like that? Or do you do some sort of Creator mumbo-jumbo? **[...] **'Says the wizard.' Ha ha, very funny. **[...]** I still don't get why you would choose me. **[...]** I guess you're right. Hey, no complaints here! Thanks Creator. You know... All this talking out loud to nothingness, it almost sounds like I'm talking to myself. **[...]** _What?!_ What do you mean _I __am__ talking to myself?!_"

_CRACK._

Fred opened his eyes and nearly died again.

* * *

George got downstairs just as the last bit of food was being set on the table. George couldn't help but muster a small smile. Mum made all his favorites. All of them. Except... His smile faltered. She had put out one of _Mr. Kettlewell's Famous Lime Pies. _Fred's favorite. George didn't let his family see his sorrow though. Dad beamed when he saw George walk into the kitchen.

"There he is!" He said warmly. "The man of the hour!" Percy looked over and smiled half-heartedly at George before returning to helping Mum levitate the final decorations. Ginny, Hermione and Harry grinned at him and said, "Happy birthday, George!" Bill and Charlie looked up from their already seated positions at the table. Charlie hid whatever it was they were holding and tried to act innocent.

"Hey there, Georgie!" Bill said good-naturedly.

"We're not hiding anything." Charlie got a sharp elbow to the ribs. "Ouch, Bill!"

"Shut it, you loud mouth." The eldest Weasley brother hissed. Bill's wife, Fleur shot him an amused but firm look. She then got to her feet and glided over to place a small kiss on her brother-in-law's cheek. "_Joyeux anniversaire,_ George!" She said with a smile.

Mum turned to glare at her two eldest sons, who were wrestling with whatever it was they weren't holding. "Now really boys! How old are you?"

"Old enough, Mum." Charlie shot back, a playful expression on his face. George couldn't help but notice that his older brother looked... more worn. There was a glazed look about his eyes that suggested he had a hangover. That rang some bells in George's mind. He could've sworn he remembered something from a dream about Charlie and alcohol.

Ron was last to tromp down the stairs after Mum hollered up them. He clapped George on the back as he passed him. "Morn...after...night," he said vaguely through a wide yawn.

"You were planning to sleep through my party," George pouted, bottom lip falsely quivering. "Just when I was really starting to like you..."

"Stuff it, you git," Ron grinned and tossed a parcel at George. "Happy birthday." When unwrapped, George found a small shot glass badly hand-engraved with the Gryffindor lion. "You can drink now!" Ron said, envy clearly slipping into each word. "Thought you'd enjoy your first drink courtesy of your favorite brother."

"I'd like to disagree, Ronnie," Bill said. "As the eldest brother, I'm naturally everyone's favorite." The lofty way he said it reminded everyone very strongly of Percy before the war.

"Alright, sit down you lot!" Mum said over everyone's chatter. Once seated, Dad picked up the present at the farthest end of the table. It wasn't wrapped; it only came with a large red bow wrapped around the neck.

"Alright George," he said, "since you are twenty-one today, you get your very first shot of firewhiskey. And, in Weasley family tradition, you must not only have the shot, but also have an extra ingredient added by your elder brothers." Bill, Charlie and Percy exchanged knowing looks of amusement. They had plans. Evil plans. "Your glass, if you please," Dad said, a glint of mischief in his eye. Harry, Ron and Ginny watched with anticipation while Hermione and Mum looked slightly nervous. George handed over the small glass and Dad filled it halfway with the red liquid and gave it back. It sizzled and popped in the glass and heated George's hand as he held it.

"Alright boys," George said, looking at the three eldest. "Do your worst."

"If you insist," Bill said devilishly.

Charlie did the honors. "This, ladies and gentlemen," he said as he stood and held up a small tube, "is the powder of a crushed Naga Bhut Jolokia chili pepper. It is the hottest chili pepper in the world. Bill, Percy and I apperated to India to get this stuff straight from the source. Many brave men have shied away from this little devil." Charlie grinned at the expression of horror and determination on George's face. "Luckily for me, my brother is worth ten of each of them. And I know for a fact..." he sprinkled the tiniest dusting into the firewhiskey, "...that he can take the heat."

Mum looked very unsure. "Is this wise, boys? You could very seriously injure him if you're not careful with that pepper."

"Mum! Bill put _gnome toenails_ in my shot!" Charlie said indignantly. "I think this—"

"And what would happen," George cut his brother off as his mother began to glare at Bill. He eyed the glass with apprehension, "if suddenly the glass just happened to tip over and I was unable to drink it?"

"Then you would be crowned 'Wuss of the Year' and would have to introduce yourself as such to anyone you meet," Percy said. Everyone laughed at that.

"I didn't know you had a sense of humor, Perce!" Bill chuckled.

Percy cracked a small smile. "I have my moments."

"Alright, c'mon George! Chug that pepper drink!" Ron said eagerly. There were many calls of agreement as George raised the glass to his lips. Just the smell was enough to make his eyes water.

"That'll clear your sinuses," he said, coughing. Then he lifted it in a toast. "Bottoms up!" And he threw it back.

Everyone watched for a few seconds.

"Well?" Harry asked. "What's it like?"

George smacked his lips a few times. "Honestly, it's not as bad as I—"

Then it hit.

His mouth started to burn. Hotter and hotter until it felt like his tongue was going to shrivel up. It was like his mouth turned to ash and still managed to burn. George clapped a hand to his mouth and inhaled sharply through his nose. Oh god, that was worse. His stomach sizzled and his throat was scorched. Even his teeth were on fire. After taking several breaths, it felt as though he was breathing an inferno. "Someone!" He squeaked. "Anyone!" He fanned his mouth before shouting, _"WATER!"_

"_Aguamenti!"_ Fleur, Hermione and Dad all blasted streams of water at George's gaping maw. An instant cooling hit him and George hissed a sigh of relief. It was still tingling, but not flaming.

"That was amazingly stupid," George croaked. Then he grinned broadly. "I would do it again in a heartbeat." A cheer went up around the kitchen, followed by a roaring chorus of 'Happy Birthday.' Just as they began piling food onto their plates—

_CRACK._

Dad looked up in confusion. "I wonder who that could be?" He mused aloud. He rose from the table as a swift four knocks sounded. The eyes of ten others followed him as he opened the front door.

Then everything happened at once.

Bill and Charlie dropped the dishes they were holding and they shattered on the ground. Percy made a sound like a dying animal. Fleur, Ginny and Hermione screamed. Ron and Harry vaulted to their feet and raised their wands. Mum fainted in her chair. George stood and stared, unable to speak. Dad only stood, completely motionless and dumbfounded at the sight of the man before him.

"Evening everyone," the man said with a smile. "Hey Georgie! Hope I'm not too late for our birthday dinner." Fred Weasley stood on the doorstep, looking mildly interested at the reactions of his family and very much alive.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I actually have no idea of where to go with this. It's been sitting on my computer for the longest time and gathering dust. I just thought I'd get it up here and let you people take a gander at it. I don't even know what to do with it from here. Anybody got any ideas?_

_Also: Yes, yes, I know what I'm doing. I'll keep working on the plans and first chapter of that Hobbit story I promised you guys at the end of _Iron Maiden._ Again, I'm working on it. The first chapter might be up during the last week in January or the first week in February. Or maybe even earlier depending on my schedules. I have midterms at school right about now, so I'm studying for those. Blarg. But I will get you your hobbit, I promise, Internet. _:)

_So, yeah, until such a time when I can figure out where to go from here, this story is on hiatus. That was quick huh?_ XD _If you give me suggestions, I'll put them to good use and credit you for them._


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